The New Country

Your lips are a country too
cities haystacks footballs flowers

secret elections held inside a vowel
who won your shoulders

I lived in an upside-down umbrella for so long
knees purple and gold

stranger really in a strange land
until I found you

your lips the two buttons of sky
only a nail remained outside

a forest surrounding its dark head
I took fruit from everywhere

darling you have no borders
to speak of

the center of your smile
self-correcting